Origins
by TheFlyingGraysons4everFall
Summary: Origins: a point or place where something begins, arises or is derived. Synonyms - creation, genesis, birth.
1. Beginning

**How about it guys? My first FemRob story. Just so you know, this story will actually relate to future FemRob stories I do (unless I directly say otherwise), so pay attention! You can prove you did by REVIEWING. Ya know, no pressure or anything...**

***clears throat vigorously***

**Anyway... I hope that you enjoy it, and just know that even though it starts _really _early in her history, I won't go over every single little thing. Just the milestones. A LOT of daddybats, for those that like the more strained relationship, just letting you know.**

**Enjoy!**

***readers that actually read this* FINALLY. It was getting so awkward even _I _was embarrassed.**

* * *

Beginning - the point in time or space at which something starts. Synonyms: dawn, birth, rise

* * *

Rachel Grayson stared up at the bottom of the top bed. The girl that had shared the bunk with her had been released on good behavior, meaning that at least for the moment, she had this room all to herself. While that was good in the sense that her former roommate could no longer threaten to stab her with a shiv, it also meant that Rachel was confined to silence, and in the silence, she heard things she'd rather forget.

Her eyes burned with the urge to blink. Yet she knew if she did that, she'd see them fall again. And again. And again. There was no end as long as it stayed fresh in her mind. Tears sprung up at the very final thought that she was alone in the world at the age of eight. There was the sound of a shrill bell and the automatic locks disengaging, signaling that it was time for lunch and then a little time in the courtyard for those not in solitary.

Rachel sighed and slowly got up. She was careful to keep her head down and her ears open for anybody looking to fight. She had been quick to learn this tactic. Because she was the youngest and smallest among the kids here, her first week had been spent bruised, bloody, and broken. By her second week she discovered that her acrobatic skills could be used to fight back and defend herself. A lot of the juvie repeats didn't care and were ready to release their pent up aggression, but the newcomers soon backed off.

The slop the crabby old ladies called lunch was eaten slowly, and with constant looks behind her back for any potential abusers. Once the tray was empty, Rachel delivered her tray to the kids on washing duty before jogging to the courtyard. She didn't have much time left before the bell rang again, and she'd have to go back to that dark, lonely cell they called a room. She wanted a couple deep breaths of fresh air to hold her over until tomorrow.

She had been leaning on a concrete bench, soaking up the delicious sunlight when a large shadow blocked it. She opened her eyes to find the oldest girl in juvie glaring down at her. Her muscles automatically tensed in preparation for a fight, though she hid it as best as she could.

"You're the new kid right?"

Rachel nodded, not wanting to say something that the beefy girl could perceive as an invitation to beat her to a pulp.

"The circus freak?"

Again, she nodded. Being called names had happened to her long before she came here, so it didn't bother her as much as people thought. The other girl gestured to the chain link fence that separated the girls from the boys and gave Rachel a skeptical look.

"Think you can climb that fence and give my boyfriend a message?"

She knew it was wrong. She knew that if she got caught she would be in _serious _trouble, but that was a more distant threat that the one huge one still blocking her sunlight with a stance that said she was ready to 'convince' her if she said no. So Rachel nodded, and felt a small shiver of excitement travel up her spine.

"I'll do it tonight so that I don't get caught."

"How?"

"I'll wedge something in the door to keep it from locking. What's the message?"

"Don't worry about that. It'll be on a piece of paper taped under the basketball rack next to the fence." The girl scowled before raising her fist and laughing when Rachel flinched.

* * *

Rachel sat on her lumpy bed in the darkest clothes she had. She had on a black shirt with some band name on it and dark blue jeans, both of which were at least two sizes too big for her because they didn't have anything smaller to give her. She stared apprehensively at the caged clock high on the opposite wall. It had been forty minutes since lights out, and time seemed to be going purposefully slow, just to frustrate her. One of her rattier shoes was wedged in the door, creating a gap covered by the quilt from the top bunk, probably big enough for her to slip through. Sometimes it helped to be tiny.

Her heart sped up as she heard the _clack _of the female warden's boots pass by her door. Even after she had gone, Rachel still couldn't calm her shaky breathing. The horrible thing was, through all this fear of being caught and the punishment, she was still excited and filled with anticipation. There was a certain...thrill that went through her at breaking the rules.

_It's not bad, I'm just ready to get it over with, that's all._

After fifteen minutes of waiting had gone by, she had slipped out. She nearly shrieked in surprise when the only thing she felt under her foot was air for a second and she nearly died of a heart attack when it finally did land with a _smack _on the concrete floor. She waited tensely for the Warden to come stomping back and kick her all the way into solitary. When nothing happened she slowly exited the rest of the way and made her way to the courtyard as silently as possible.

In the dim light of the crescent moon that was out that night, she was able to find the shadowed basketball rack and felt underneath. It took barely a moment to locate the note and carefully slip it out. Rachel stuffed it in her jeans pocket and looked at the fence apprehensively. If there was any point to turn back, this was her last. With a deep breath, she jumped and gripped the it for dear life. Slowly, her 'old days' in the circus came back to her, and she gleefully climbed like a monkey up and over the fence. She crawled down until she was satisfied with the short distance between her and the ground. Taking the small leap, she looked around for a good place to stick the note when a light appeared at the edge of her vision. The sounding clacking boots came closer, and she decided on impulse to slip it under a random basketball on the rack. She still hoped to make it out of this unscathed, so she crouched behind the rack and waited for the light to go away.

When it didn't, she started to get worried. This wasn't just a regular sweep, she was _looking _for something.

_Hopefully not me_, Rachel thought desperately as another moment passed with the light still swinging from side to side. Her hopes were dashed when the Warden's voice rang out across both courtyards.

"Room 264, I found your little blanket trick. Very clever, I must admit, but that doesn't save you from punishment. Come out now and save yourself some pain."

There was a tense moment where nothing happened. Rachel came to realize in that moment that there was nothing she could do, and that the only silver lining was that at least now she wouldn't have to deal with all the other girls. The warden wasn't going to leave any time soon, and she couldn't even consider running, because she knew that however bad this place was, it would be a thousand times worse out in that big city alone. Reluctantly, she came away from her hiding spot and into the light. The warden _tsked _when she saw where her little inmate had ended up. She walked up to the fence and gave Rachel a quick once over for any obvious injuries (yet clearly overlooking the older bruises) before narrowing her eyes at her.

"Should have known. You've been causing trouble since your first day here. How'd you get over there, girl? And without a scratch on you."

The younger girl just looked down and didn't say a word. The warden _tsked _again at her behavior and pointed at the ground directly in front of her.

"I want you back over here in ten seconds, or you get solitary for three weeks instead of just two."

Rachel quickly scrambled back over and landed in front of her with only one second to spare. The older woman raised a brow and grabbed her arm in a tight grip. She marched them quickly back into the building and past her old room, all the way to the solitary block, with her stumbling behind the warden's long strides. She ushered her into the cramped room and gave her a sympathetic but hard look.

"I hope to God someone comes for you, kid."

Rachel stared at the dank cement ceiling of her cell all night with that ringing in her ears, only interrupted by her own real sobs.

* * *

**Eh, eh? So...whadda ya think? Good? Bad? Ugly? **

***little girl Robin comes in***

**Me: OH MY GOD!**

**Robin: *scoffs at reaction* Whatever. The point is, why did you make my past so rough? You seriously couldn't be the ONE writer who gives me rainbows and butterflies?**

***Robin glares at me while I pull at the collar of my shirt***

**Me: Uh...Um...*exhales loudly and shrugs shoulders* Dramatic license?**

**Robin: *rolls eyes***

**Me: Hey, while you're here, would you mind... *gestures toward computer screen***

**Robin: DON'T REVIEW. HATE IT. SEND HATE MAIL.**

**Me: *looks up NOOOOO scene from Star Wars III on Youtube***

***Robin looks at me with a skeptical expression***

**Robin: You. Wouldn't. Dare.**

**Me: *presses play* NOOOOOOOOO! *over video* GET READY TO LISTEN TO THIS FOR TEN STRAIGHT HOURS YOU LITTLE BRAT.**


	2. Charity

**I see you've flocked back in droves for another addition.**

***Looks out at crowd, sees only one person staring at their phone***

**...Right. Anyway, here's the second chapter. I guess. *sniffle***

***Person with phone starts recording* Hey! Can you cry a little louder? I'm trying to make a fail video.**

**Me: *glares at phone until it spontaneously combusts***

* * *

Charity - the voluntary giving of help to those in need. Synonyms: aid, relief.

* * *

Rachel didn't really keep track of time. It seemed silly to, in a way. Most of the girls stuck in solitary had dish duty or washed the laundry as part of their punishment, but because the warden knew about her fence climbing abilities, had decided it was best to keep her trapped in the tiny little box they called a room. For a girl who once flew two stories in the air without the service of a net, this did not go over very well. She constantly paced and did small flips or cartwheels; stretched into weird positions in the middle of the cold hard floor.

She had been about to bounce off the bed and see how many flips she could do when the sound of the door unlocking echoed loudly around her room. A nice looking woman, probably a clerk, had opened it and stepped slightly out of the way for a large, stiff man in a large, stiff suit to walk in and smile fakely at her. As soon as the door shut behind the clerk, he dropped it for a more empathetic expression. To be honest, it was the first one Rachel had seen. It wasn't pity, or anger, or fake smiles, or strained laughs.

It was his understanding that she was alone, and that she was confused, and terrified, and so many other things.

She slowly sat down on her hard cot and waited for his response. He took a couple steps until he was towering over her, then got down on one knee so he was level with her. It was a nice feeling to have someone actually care about her craning her neck to look up at them. He stuck out a hand and she tentatively grasped it with her own, much smaller one. He shook it with a small smile.

"I'm Bruce Wayne. What's your name?"

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his ploy for normality. He had to know who she was to ask to see her.

"Rachel Grayson."

He nodded firmly, as if that decided it; whatever _it _was. When he nodded, she also saw him give her a quick once-over before Mr. Wayne gave her bruised and bedraggled state a very concerned look. He glanced at the door before talking in the quietest voice Rachel had ever heard a person use.

"Are they treating alright in here, Rachel?"

She nodded her head. "Just fine, Mr. Wayne. I've been in solitary for the past...what day is today?"

"Thursday."

"The past week, then."

He gave her a concerned look and she shrugged, though his seemingly sincere concern was the first she'd seen in what felt like an eternity, she was too scared to show that it affected her. She struggled for nonchalance when everything inside her was fluttering with hope that she would be getting out of here. Mr. Wayne seemed conflicted before shuffling carefully closer.

"How many people have come to visit you?"

Somehow embarrassed at her lack of numbers, Rachel looked away and blushed. "Nobody besides reporters."

His eyes saddened incredibly, in a refreshingly genuine way. Most of the reporters just patted her knee or drew their eyebrows together and puckered their lips before quickly continuing. Again, his sincerity came as a wave of relief for her not to have to pretend that everything was alright just because nobody understood.

"Everything is _not _okay." Rachel whispered as tears began to fall of their own volition.

Mr. Wayne was hesitant in his movements as he haltingly wrapped his arms around her, moving his large, warm hand in a circular motion on her back as she began to sob like she had never sobbed before. She buried her head in his shoulder, her tears soiling his expensive suit jacket.

"No Rachel, everything _isn't _okay. But we're going to _make _it okay together."

She lifted her head and looked at him. She was no longer sobbing, but she still took deep, shuddering breaths that wracked her small frame. He smiled tentatively at her and gently wiped away the stray tears that fell with the pad of his thumb as if she was made of glass. After being treated like everyone's personal punching bag for the past four months, it gave her the most uplifting feeling she'd had since arriving at this wretched place.

"I'm going to take you away from here to come live with me, if that's what you really want."

Rachel felt her chest tighten with so many clamoring, happy emotions that all she could do was nod her head vigorously as she sniffled. His small smile grew a fraction before nodding back at her.

"I'm going to help you through this until you can say that at least _something _is okay, because I know better than most out there how you feel."

She began roughly swiping her few remaining tears off her cheeks and smiled at him uncertainly. "Alright, Mr. Wayne. I'd really like that."

* * *

Driving up to Wayne Manor was like stepping into another world separate even from the one she had with her parents. It was a sprawling palace of beautifully old architecture and extensive lands. A friendly old man sporting a pristine suit and proper British accent had shown her to her room, but didn't seem very fond of her dirty state, immediately directing her to the bathroom after she had set her small duffel down on her large bed.

Seeing as though _Rachel _wasn't very fond of her filthy clothes, hair, and skin, she took the man's subtle advice and quickly found her way to the immense bathroom and shucked off her disgusting clothes. Only when she reached the bathtub big enough to be a swimming pool did she realize that she had no idea how to work it.

With a blush that she was sure reached down to her toes, she grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself like a cape before opening the door a sliver and calling out the only name she knew.

"Mr. Wayne?!"

She heard the calculating click of expensive shoes on the dark wooden floor of the hallway until the old man appeared in her vision, limited by the slim space of the crack.

"Master Bruce is otherwise occupied, young miss. What did you need?"

Rachel's blush increased tenfold and she shuffled her feet and opened the door a bit more.

"I, uh...I don't know how to turn on the bathtub, mister."

The well dressed man chuckled before smiling warmly at her. "Don't worry a wit, Mistress Rachel. Master Bruce _still _has no idea."

She allowed a small giggle to pass through at the man's comment. It was slightly reassuring to know that at least she and Mr. Wayne were on the same page with that at least. She was about to tell him so when she realized a very important missing detail.

"Um, I'm _really _sorry mister, but I don't know your name."

Rachel opened the door until she was sure he could get in, and did, while he responded. "Alfred Pennyworth, at your beck and call."

She refused to ask what _that _meant, seeing as though he would probably think she was stupid, and she didn't want his kind attitude towards her change because he thought she wasn't as intelligent as him. She simply nodded and paid close attention to what his nimble hands did as he carefully turned on the water and adjusted it accordingly. Every so often, he would ask her to stick her hand under the gushing flow of the faucet to see if it was to her liking. As soon as she found the right temperature, she nodded and waited with Alfred for the tub to fill up. He even added some of the shampoo to make a bubble bath, even after Rachel affirmed that she was _much _too big for such a thing.

Once it was all set up, he smiled at her one more time before turning to leave. "Thank you Mr. Alfred."

Because he was turned away, she couldn't tell what his facial expression was, but she had a very firm belief that he still had that warm smile on his lips as he nodded his head and walked out, allowing her to slip in and begin to feel human again.

* * *

A week passed, and Rachel's new guardian had suggested she start going to school; a place where she could meet kids her age and learn things in a classroom. As a traveling circus performer, she had never even _heard _of school, let alone the process of learning things at a group speed. It had always just been her and her parents in their cozy little trailer reading from the books they owned and teaching her everything they knew of math, history, and English.

"I don't know Mr. Wayne..."

Rachel and Bruce sat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, the former swinging her stool from side to side restlessly. He looked at her disapprovingly over the _Gotham Gazette_; his already finished _Daily Planet _underneath the empty plate that had at one point contained egg whites and whole wheat toast before he had inhaled it absently.

"Rachel, I thought I told you to call me Bruce. And besides, I feel bad for keeping you holed up in this empty old place. I have this very real fear that I'll come home one day to find you with a beard and a cane yelling at kids to keep off your lawn."

While the joke seemed funny enough - it had gotten her to laugh, hadn't it? - it still felt like he had been trying too hard to inject a forced lightness to his tone. It _always _seemed that way when she was with him. They would eat breakfast together, sometimes in utter silence and other times with uselessly idle chatter, before he rushed off to work and usually wasn't seen again until the next morning, where they would repeat the cycle. Sometimes the busy tycoon made it in time for supper, but usually he only appeared in time to catch some eggs and toast while looking haggard and either in a suit or a robe.

She tried not to bother herself with it, but she couldn't help but feel like he was betraying her in some way. He had taken her in only to leave her as soon as she was settled?

"You start next week."

His certain words snapped her out of her thoughts and into a much darker state. Rachel definitely did _not _want to attend a rich school full of snotty kids.

"What?"

Bruce sighed and took a finishing gulp of his steaming coffee. He set it down firmly with a stern look in her direction.

"You're going to Privette Elementary starting next week. You can't be kept away forever, and it's important that you connect with other children your age. I want you to at least _try_."

She glared at him before sliding off the stool and making her way up the stairs to her large, empty room.

* * *

Rachel had only been at the preppy school for snobs two weeks and she had already been through four fights and six kids stupid enough to tease her. She had found a safe haven in the boughs of one of the trees that were planted in the courtyard, and was spending her lunch there to avoid all the nasty looks. Just as she was about to jump down three of the girls from her grade that she hadn't bothered to learn the names of gathered under the exact spot that Rachel would have landed.

"Oh my God, _I know_. I can't believe Mr. Wayne did that. My mommy says it's what's called a _publicity stunt_, and that Rachel Grayson is a _charity case_."

The other girls nodded snootily, like they knew _exactly _what she was talking about. Rachel stayed quiet in the tree, though it was growing increasingly hard not to drop down, scare the crud out of the snotty brats, and show them just what a charity case could do to their pretty faces.

"Well, my mommy says that she went on a _date _with Bruce Wayne, and she said that he was such a big softie."

The two girls looked at the third in horror. "_Ewww. _Boys are _so _gross. What's a date?"

They went on talking about the _date_, the girl whose mom had gone on one explaining what her mom told her. Rachel had no interest in that, and sorely wanted to get down before the bell rang for recess to end. Her only problem was the fact that they _would not move_. She didn't give a crap about what they thought was behind Mr. Wayne's decision to taker her in; she just wanted to get away from them and their superficial conversations. But those words had struck a very deep cord in her.

_Charity case_.

She wasn't just a way for Mr. Wayne to look good, was she? It might explain why he was so distant, and never really seemed to want to spend time with her. She didn't bother getting down once the bell rang and the girls left, because they didn't even register over the roaring in her ears; a mixture of rage, betrayal, and utter sorrow. She couldn't believe that he would take her in and be nice to her just to make himself more popular.

Rachel didn't realize how much time was passing until two voices were heard under her. One was easily recognized as Bruce, while the other one was unfamiliar.

"I got worried when Alfred said she didn't show up."

"I apologize, Mr. Wayne. She must have found a spot during recess. I'll talk to the teachers about-"

The strange voice stopped, and peeping out carefully, she saw that they were right under her in the shade of the tree. Bruce looked up and smiled with relief.

"I don't think that will be necessary. It was a mistake to expose her to all this so soon. I believe homeschooling in order."

The balding man followed his example and jumped slightly at the sight of her staring down at them from her perch. He looked even more surprised once the younger man's words sunk in, but seemed too stressed to retaliate or attempt to cajole him into considering a different option. He just muttered something under his breath and nodded; turning back towards the large school building with a slightly defeated shuffle. Once he was far enough away, Rachel carefully climbed down and rested her eyes everywhere but his face.

"Rachel, I know I told the principal that you were going to be homeschooled, but I can easily take that back. You have to tell me what's wrong, otherwise I can't help you."

She finally found the courage to look up at him. "Am I a charity case? A publicity stunt?"

His eyes widened slightly before sighing and looking over towards the sleekly designed building. "Who wouldn't want charity in a world as messed up as this?"

* * *

**My God! I actually did a chapter longer than a thousand words! THE WORLD IS ENDING!**

**REVIEW TO SAVE THE UNIVERSE FROM IMPLODING!**


	3. Refuge

**I really liked the turnout I got from adding the second chapter, so let's see if we can keep that going shall we? I honestly enjoy every minute of writing this story, and I'm excited to show you all the ideas I have for FemRob's early life. Just to reiterate, this story is going to connect all future stories featuring genderbent Robin (unless I explicitly say otherwise). But to add on, it is not NECESSARY. This can be its own little fluff factory of her meeting the League and her random adventures as she develops as a hero, but there are little things that will be referenced in my future stuff. Reading this is advantageous, though, in the sense that it adds a deeper element to most of the relationships present in the stories as well as the characters themselves.**

**In this chapter, and several others threaded throughout, there will be snippets of Bruce's POV, just to get some perspective and show the slow but sure growth of their bond. This isn't exclusive to the Dark Knight either. In a chapter not to far off, Robin will be meeting the core members of the League, so there will be a lot of switching between Rachel's and the Leaguer's POV.**

* * *

Refuge - a condition of being safe or sheltered from pursuit, danger, or trouble. Synonyms: protection, security, sanctuary.

* * *

_They fell. There was no sound, not until the horrifying crack of their bodies broke whatever barrier had protected her from their screams as they fell. The audience was panicking now, and so was she. For some strange reason, the Human Cannonball shot out of nowhere with a loud boom. Before he shot into the suddenly visible sky he shouted dimly at her; words that triggered the dissolving of the very ground beneath her feet, creating a yawning black space of nothingness._

_"Her hand was right there. You could have saved them. You _didn't _save them."_

_Another cracking boom crashed around her, and _she woke up a sweating, crying mess. Rain pounded against the window, pouring in thick rivulets on the glass. Rachel felt cold and lonely in her too large, Queen sized bed.

Lightening flashed, and only seconds later an even louder crashing catastrophe of sound came from the dark cloudy sky. The young acrobat quickly shot out of her bed and ran towards Mr. Wayne's room, the only safe place she could think of. The thunder crashed all around her, making her heart pound in time with the harsh cracks and dull booms emanating from the sky. Slowly and carefully she opened the door, not as sure of herself as when the fear had controlled her fast flying feet. There was doubt on exactly how far Mr. Wayne was willing to let her go with her stay here. Hesitantly she tip-toed her way towards the large bed, pausing tensely when a creak sounded from the worn wooden floorboards. There was a harsh stillness that filled her ears while she nervously waited for any sign of movement. When a strained minute of silence passed and no movement could be detected.

Rachel climbed into the bed as gently as she could, nearly crying out when she slipped on the satin sheets. When he still didn't shift, she warily lifted the blankets and slid under, letting herself slide close enough to feel Bruce's body heat, but far enough so she wasn't uncomfortable with the situation. She found herself actually relaxing, slowly growing accustomed to the comfort that his unconscious presence offered.

* * *

Bruce Wayne had been hard at work trying to find Tony Zucco for the past five months, with little success. There was always enough time for him to get away; always one more hole for the rat to hide in. It didn't help that for the first four he had assumed that the wretched city he protected had placed the only surviving Grayson in foster care, where she at least had a chance. Instead he had to discover through his press connections that she had been booted to the bottom of the list and forced into juvie. As soon as he heard the image of the small, frail child holding the mangled bodies of her only family in the world with tears and blood covering her face and costume lodged itself in his head and would not be repressed until something was done about her situation.

He immediately set about retrieving her and bringing her back to the Manor, even against his better judgment. A child would slow Bruce down, force him to make excuses for his nightly habits, but she had adjusted to her new life relatively easily. Not a single word was ever uttered about his strange schedule. But there was a tiredness around her jaded blue eyes that were just too reminiscent of the boy he remembered all too well. He saw that child every time he looked in the mirror, and now, every time he looked at his ward. Rachel was just going to have to wait until he could muster the energy. At this rate, he would only get about three hours of tight sleep. Once he got into his large bedroom he quickly disrobed down to his underwear and wearily climbed into bed. He had nearly made it into deep, peaceful slumber when he heard the distinctive sound of a door slowly opening. His door. His first thought was Rachel, just down the hall. Bruce's body tensed in preparation for a fight.

_A bold robber? A nemesis who figured it out?_

Tiny, padded footsteps made their way secretively further into the room until a loud creak sounded. At that point he had basically figured out just who had entered his room. The small dip of the bed confirmed his suspicions, and it took most of his willpower not to smile when Rachel slipped and let out a small gasp. She tentatively snuggled in with just enough space to remind Bruce exactly where he stood. There was silence as her tense body slowly relaxed and her breathing eventually evened out. Bruce was left to his thoughts.

Tonight had been tough, and he knew that if he managed to get a wink of sleep tonight that he'd find a position to make him sore by the morning. He had quite a few cuts and bruises, and the slickening property of the pouring rain didn't help his situation as the cold contracted his muscles and made his different trouble spots and old injuries start acting up. He would have to remember to tell Alfred he needed some good old English cures. The aging man seemed to be full of those, ready with them for any time they seemed needed. Bruce felt slightly eased by the warmth of the frail body close to his. His heavy lids, which were already closed, found themselves glued shut and he slowly floated down into one of the deepest slumbers he'd had in over twenty years.

* * *

Rachel stared bored down at the street below while she played with her side braid. She turned to Bruce with a pained look, which he returned with a stern stare.

"Mr. Wayne, why can't I just stay at the Manor? I'd be fine by myself."

He shook his head. "You forget I know what it's like to be alone with your thoughts. Besides, what harm can a little bonding do? I have a meeting with another businessman, but I should be back in no time."

She groaned but nodded, understanding and appreciating the fact that he didn't want her to be alone. He ruffled her hair before straightening his tie and stepping out. Rachel did different stretches and tricks to pass the time, but it wasn't long at all before she was bored. Bruce had been gone for thirty minutes, and if _that _wasn't long enough to close a business deal, then she was in trouble. Curiosity got the better of her and she began to look around and poke through his desk. It was a spacious office, and a big desk; she didn't see any reason why he would notice that she went through his things. Besides, it was sort of his fault for leaving her in here all alone anyway.

She got to a drawer that was locked, further rousing her interest. Rachel thought about all the times in movies that simple locks were picked with bobby pins, and felt the multitude of the ones in her hair every time she moved. She pulled two out and was just about to see if the movies really did work in real life when three men all in black busted through the wall of windows that she had been looking out of earlier. She quickly rolled under the desk and waited tensely for something, _anything _to happen.

The sound of them ransacking was very apparent, and allowed Rachel to let out the breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. She figured that they would be coming over to where she was hiding soon, and when they did, she was screwed. She slowly and quietly crawled out and peeked out from behind the large mahogany desk to see one of the men striding confidently over, and he was one of the bigger ones. Rachel quickly tried to crawl for the wide office doors only to feel the painful sensation of her hair being pulled by the braid. She cried out and began flailing against her captor. She stopped after an abrupt slap to her face.

"I don't like hitting little girls, and I _really _don't like shooting little girls, so shut it or I'm going to have to do something I _really _don't like."

Something in Rachel settled. It wasn't a snap, or a hollow feeling. It was as if she had something in her; a puzzle piece that had always sat funny that got some help to snuggle in and complete the whole picture. Her eyelids lowered and she felt calm, even though her heart was racing with excitement. She swung her legs over her head, kicking the guy holding her in the mouth; she felt her toes connect to the hard teeth behind his sneering lips. She ignored the pain in her toes and didn't waste time once he let go to hold his injured mouth. Rachel shot out the doors, sliding down the sleek hallways, past surprised looking employees and straight towards the hallway that led to the boardroom.

She burst through into the room full of shocked faces, including Bruce's. He sat near a bald headed man with a glint in his eyes that disturbed Rachel. Her heavy panting was the only thing filling the silence until Bruce cleared his throat after the surprise wore off.

"Rachel, I thought I told you to wait in my off-"

She shook her head. "Men..." she took a deep breath; panic at them coming after her and the run here robbing her of it, "men came in. They were looking for something."

Just as Bruce shot up, the three men burst in, the one that had been holding her holding his mouth and looking _super _pissed. The two others got out their guns and shot towards the ceiling causing a panic. Rachel was the closest one to the invaders, so she was once again grabbed, this time by her arm. She bit down on his hand, causing another string of curses to flow from the criminal's injured mouth, but he didn't let go. He leered down at her.

"Feisty one, ain't ya?"

Instead of answering, Rachel spit on her captor, his own blood mixed with her saliva on his cheek. His face grew dark, and his free hand raised to strike her.

"You should learn when to give up, kid."

Rachel tensed for the blow, but it never came. Instead, Bruce had somehow made it across the room in time to take it for her. Rage welled up in her at the thought of the man holding her attempting to strike a small child, and successfully striking an unarmed bystander. Using her gymnastic abilities, she did a cartwheel, effectively twisting her captor's wrist and forcing him to let go with a loud cry of pain. From his prone position on the carpeted floor of the board room Bruce stared at her in slight surprise. So did the two thugs, before anger overcame their shock and they began to walk towards Rachel menacingly. All her attention went to the two very intimidating looking guns that were currently pointed towards her. The part of her that knew what it was doing, the part unrecognized until now, knew that she wasn't going to last long staying frozen like she was. She needed to _move_, and she needed to do it _now_.

Picking the one on the left, she charged towards him and head-butted his gut with all the force she could muster. Without missing a beat, she faced the stock still thug across from her. With a running start she tackled his legs and tensed when the sound of a gunshot filled the confined space. Her ears rang, deterring her focus from the quickly recovering criminal under her. He tried to make a grab for her only for her to duck it in time and snag the gun from his hand. She didn't know the first thing about real guns, but from what she could tell from the action movies she'd watched with her dad, you had to pull back the movable part at the back to make it fire. It was a little more difficult that she thought it would be, but once the distinct clicking sound was heard, the last thug seemed more hesitant.

"You wouldn't shoot me." His words themselves were sure, but his tone was anything but. She had to remind herself that he, along with the rest of the room, had seen her take down his cohorts with more ease than should be expected from an eight year old girl. Looking at his terrified face, she knew she wouldn't, but that didn't stop the part of her that had controlled the fight from the moment it settled into place.

_What's so wrong with shooting him? He was going to kill you. He would have killed Mr. Wayne._

Still, she shook her head from such dark thoughts. Rachel pushed the piece forward with less difficulty than she had pulled it back.

"Nope. I'm not heartless."

With as much strength as she could gather into her scrawny arms, which was a considerable amount, she conked him on the head and watched his eyes roll back into his head and his body fall to the ground. The entire room looked around at the groaning and unconscious men around them and slowly came back to themselves. Bruce stood up and smiled proudly at her. The bald man that he had been sitting next to had a very unnerving glint in his eyes that told her she hadn't seen the last of him.

* * *

Eventually someone had the sense to call the police. They came and picked the crooks up. Nobody told them that a small child had been the one to save the day, though it wasn't as if Rachel really craved the attention. It had been a week, and since the 'incident' Bruce had acted like nothing had happened. It was obvious that she no longer accompanied him to work, leaving her days empty and boring, giving her nothing better to do than stare at clocks.

Rachel wondered what kind of picture she made staring at the ornate grandfather clock that was at least thirty minutes off of the rest. Alfred had left yesterday afternoon to England for his annual trip back to his old stomping grounds, despite his insistence that he should stay to help around the Manor. It seemed that Mr. Wayne had been the more persuasive in this matter.

So Rachel had been successfully left to her own devices, and in her_ many _attempts to squelch her boredom had come across the stupefying puzzle of how every other clock in the house ran just fine, on point to the millisecond, except for the poor, extravagant grandfather clock that stood encased in deep mahogany and ticked an entire half an hour off from the rest of its time-keeping brethren. She sat, nearly swallowed by the immense, plush chair that sat slightly crooked and aimed more towards the painting of two regal people and the large fireplace beneath it than the cluttered desk stacked with numerous packets of paper which had been too difficult for her to understand and the now annoyingly out-of-place grandfather clock.

She sighed and wondered if a nap might cure her listless attitude only to realize that when she closed her eyes the off tick of the clock became sharper and even harder to bear. Rachel sighed again and decided that since the elderly English butler was on a much deserved vacation, she would be the one to fix the misfit tock of the clock. She almost giggled as she slid down from her comfy position and sang Hickory Dickory in her head. She easily rolled the computer chair from behind Bruce's desk and up to the soon-to-be-repaired clock. Just thinking about the completely unlikely reaction of Mr. Wayne giving one of his more genuine smiles and a pat on the back for fixing something he hadn't even realized needed it.

The young acrobat rolled her eyes at the ridiculous thought and banished it like she did every other childish notion that made its way into her jaded mind. She fought to get up onto the padded seat to be able to reach the hands on the clock's face. She checked one of the few possessions she still clung to from her circus days, a Snoopy wristwatch that she had been given on her fifth birthday, and had apparently been her father's when he was around her age.

_3:14_

Rachel checked the tall clock in front of her.

_2:44_

She leaned forward slightly to get closer, causing her to almost slip when the chair rolled from under her. She was forced to grab onto the pulley. That in itself would have been fine, but by the time she reached the floor, she heard a very distinct _click_.

_Crap crap crap, _**_double _**_crap!_

To make her heartbeat race faster, the entire clock began to move; slide over to the left to make a hole wide and tall enough to be a doorway. Just like the night of the storm, there was a moment of defined silence in which Rachel didn't even take a chance on breathing for fear something monstrous would detach itself from the impenetrable darkness of the hole. Eventually she dared to venture slightly inside. She let her eyes adjust before realizing that she was standing on the first of many stone steps that led further down into the shadows. There was an eerie quiet, only broken by the occasional drip from the stalactites as the frightened girl somehow found the courage to slowly walk down the steps. As she got further down she found that there were more sounds. Bats, for one. _Lots _of bats. The sound of an automated voice?

_That _was new. Since when did underground caves have computers? She finally got to the very bottom and gasped in awe of the sight that greeted her. A large, open space in the stone was filled to the brim with the latest advances in technology, different bat-shaped vehicles, and a _dinosaur_. Stepping up to one of the clear glass capsules that lined the wall nearest her, Rachel saw something she never thought possible. A bat-themed suit with a bat on the chest, and a long black cape. Could it be...?

Just when she thought it couldn't get better, the loud roar of a powerful car came, cutting through the squeaking of the bats above. It struck her then that if Batman found her snooping around, he wouldn't be too pleased. Looking around desperately, she decided to hide behind the small space in between the large computer that dominated the cave and the stone wall. Rachel made her way there as quietly as she could. She didn't even hear the vigilante's approach until the rolling of the computer chair's wheels announced how close he had gotten. It didn't help that the young girl now had the sneaking suspicion that he wasn't going to move very soon.

_Just confront him. Hi, I know I'm not supposed to be down here, but you're not supposed to be a vigilante, so I think we're even._

She shook her head. No way that was going to work. He could just beat her into a coma and she wouldn't be able to snitch. But Mr. Wayne wouldn't hit a kid. Would he? It was finally dawning on her how little she knew about the philanthropist that had taken her in. Taking a deep breath, she went with her gut and walked out from her hiding spot. The de-cowled Dark Knight stared at her with widened blue-grey eyes. If there had been any doubt on who the elusive Caped Crusader was, it was washed away now. There sat Bruce Wayne, the last suspect on the list. A million things were going through her mind, racing by faster than she could even formulate them, but one thing was constant. They stared at each other; their eyes conveying secret messages.

"I want in."

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and to her surprise, nodded.

* * *

**So, like, hate, want to kill me for making you wait so long? I know, I know so do I, but believe it or not, I've been busy with life outside of fanfiction. Mostly.**

***Reader walks in and dumps soda on my head***

**Okay, probably deserved that, but really guys, I swear I would have updated as soon as possible had this chapter been as easy as some of the other side projects I've been using my creativeness on.**

***Annoyed looking Batman walks in holding a baby FemRob***

**Me: *opens mouth***

**Bats: Not. A. Word.**

**Me: *closes mouth***

**Bats: *hands me baby* Here. Have fun with it. The only word she knows how to say is-**

**Baby Rob: REVIEW! REVIEWREVIEWREVIEW-**

**Me: *sticks binky in her mouth***

**Bats: *gives me strange look for having a binky lying around***

**Me: WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?! I'M A WRITER WE HAVE QUIRKS!**

**Bats: *rolls eyes and leaves***

**Me: Whatever, the thing is, for those of you who are reading this for the Daddy!Bats fluff and Robin's growing up story AND NOTHING MORE, you can stop here. For those getting psyched for the Apprentice arc that I am preparing, READ AHEAD. For those just reading the things all in caps, I want to see if this actually works: YOU ARE LAZY.**

**Only the right people will get offended.**

* * *

Lex Luthor reviewed the occurrences of the day and gave a bark of humorless laughter. He may have lost the valuable information that had been his main objective, but surprisingly, he was only slightly sore over that fact. What he had gained today made up for his loss. Those goons hadn't had half a brain put together anyway. What really mattered was the fact that he had finally found a way to repay his debt to a very persistent collector. Using his special phone, he dialed a number he usually dreaded. There were exactly two rings before a clipped voice answered.

Smiling smugly, Luthor put his feet up on the edge of his desk and crossed his legs. He knew he didn't have to make flowery declarations or put a grand spin on things with the man on the other end. Still, the anticipation had a sweet twinge to it.

"Hello, it's Luthor."

He waited in silence as the other end answered in kind. There was a moment of doubt in the villain's mind on whether this would pan out for him before he remembered the way the bold chit had taken down the men two times her size and pulled the third's own gun on him. The ridiculous former business partner had been looking for someone to follow in his footsteps recently, and everyone he'd tried had disappointed him. This girl was _perfect_. She had some raw potential that could easily be molded. If Lex remembered correctly, the child had been with the circus. He laughed, most likely confusing the impatient man on the phone with him.

"Mr. Wilson, I think I have something that would interest you..."


	4. Autonomy

**Well what do you know, you guys came back!**

***ten people tied to chairs with tapes on their mouths struggle***

**Me: *laughs maniacally* ANYWAY, seeing as you're going to be stuck here until I finish, you wanna read what I wrote?**

***people shake heads vigorously***

**Me: Oh, well then you want the acid vat right away?**

***people shake heads vigorously***

**Me: WELL THEN ON WITH THE CHAPTER!**

***one of the hostages*: *muffled* Is there no other option?**

**Me: I'm sorry, couldn't hear that love. You have a little something across your mouth. SO LET'S GO ON A MAGICAL, MANIACAL JOURNEY TOGETHER. *begins maniacal laughter again* *coughs harshly***

* * *

Autonomy - freedom from external control or influence; independence. Synonyms: self-rule, sovereignty, freedom.

* * *

_"I want in."_

_He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and to her surprise, nodded._

* * *

Rachel looked up in alarm as the computer made a sequence of loud beeps before becoming quiet and pulling up a radio frequency.

"Dispatch, we have a 211 in progress at Gotham Bank and Trust. Possible 10-14. Suspect is reported as a white male, middle 30's to 40's, black and grey hair, 230 to 250 pounds. No identifying marks. Suspect should be considered armed and dangerous. Proceed with caution."

Bruce- no, Batman, was up and out of his seat before the transmission had even ended. He pulled down his cowl and began a quick stride towards the stairs that no doubt led back down to his car.

"Wait! I want to go with you!"

He turned just as he reached the stairs with a set glare marring his masked features.

"No. You are to stay put. Do you understand?"

She shook her head. "But-"

He gave her a stern look.

"Don't misinterpret me. Just because you want to be 'in' doesn't mean you're going out on the streets with me. There's more to this than just running around Gotham and catching criminals; there's an oath, and risks involved. I'm not endangering you just because I understand what you're going through."

Her eyes widened in shock and indignation. "What would I do then, bake cookies for when you come back?"

**_If _**_he comes back_, her mind daringly added.

Batman's lips turned down even further, if that was even possible. "No. You'd be my eyes and ears. Monitor the computer and give me needed information. I'm not cutting you out, I'm keeping you _safe_. You don't want to see the worst Gotham has to offer."

Tears filled her eyes of their own volition at his slightly softer tone. She was somehow both touched and pissed that he was trying to protect her. It meant he cared, and that seemed to be a lot coming from the stoic man before her, but it also meant that he was smothering her. She wanted to be out there, flying from rooftops; free from gravity like she had been before Tony Zucco. Rachel tried one more time to get him to see that she needed this just as much as he did.

"Bruce, please. I can help you out there!"

He rushed down the steps with his harsh words hanging in the air.

"No, you can't."

* * *

It was slightly embarrassing to have to take her lessons on how to work the Batcomputer, as she'd so cleverly dubbed it, from Alfred. Every so often he'd give her a look of disapproval, as if it was bad enough that she knew, but even worse that she was helping. One of the upsides: she discovered she had a real knack for computers. Rachel had always been a quick learner, but she seemed to catch on and even excel faster than with most other subjects. She could now go through the massive piece of technology like butter, sifting through all the information breezily.

Bruce barely asked for information through the comm. link, and she was beginning to think that her 'position' was total crap. Only four days in and she was already tired of waiting up for him on the off chance he really did need her. By the second day she had begun to realize that she was falling asleep on the job and waking up in her bed. When it finally did hit her that she was slacking off, she groaned and buried her messy ebony head deeper into her pillow.

_Great, now Bruce will __**never **__let me go out on patrol with him._

Day four and she already had a scary addiction to coffee, a drink she once thought belonged only to the grown-ups. Now she all but streamlined it to keep awake and keep up with her foster father's night life. _And boy what a life it was. _Rachel was constantly hearing about gun fights and lunatics with knives; meaty thugs that used to be wrestlers and deep undercover missions with disguises and intrigue. Her whole being yearned to go out there with him and do all the amazing stuff she heard, but she knew it was never going to happen as long as Bruce thought he was protecting her. So she began to formulate a plan as the Batmobile, another one of her titles, squealed out into the quickly descending night. There had been an idea planted in her head when she saw Batman go around to the back of his car and open his trunk to retrieve something.

Rachel waited until the next night, using every bit of her acting talent to seem natural; even going as far as to spin a little in the computer chair that was much too tall for her and sip her dark coffee. Earlier that day, she had been looking for a costume she could wear when Alfred had come up to her room. She had been in a frenzy to find something when he knocked on her door. The desperate child had ripped open her door to see a calm Alfred with his hands behind his back standing in her way. He had raised a single, prim eyebrow at her disheveled state and she knew he knew. She expected to get a scolding and for the loyal butler to tell Bruce. Instead he did something that surprised her.

With a sad, resigned smile rested on his withered lips, he removed one of his hands from behind him and held out a sight that the former acrobat never thought she'd see again. There, folded in his gloved hand sat her folded circus costume. Gone was the blood of her parents, or the damp spots where some of her tears had fallen as she clutched her broken family to her. Her search forgotten, she had tentatively reached out to touch it; afraid that her fingers would meet only air and make the costume disappear.

"Your many friends at Haley's thought it a shame and a waste to deprive you of some of your old things. I cleaned it thoroughly and was waiting for a good time to hand it back over to its rightful owner."

Once she had it affirmed that it was no hallucination, she clutched it tightly to herself. With tears bubbling in her shiny eyes, she had looked up at the kind man who looked back with a gentle smile. She sniffled. She had thanked him, but he hadn't seemed like it was something he wanted to hear. She had put it on, and looking in the mirror had been like looking into another dimension.

Her mask, along with a pair deep green gloves, which Alfred had so intuitively added to her costume, covered her eyes with white lenses that were surprisingly easy to see through. Surrounding the lenses was a border of black cloth with points at the outer edge of each eye. Her clothes was of a simple design her mother had created. A leotard with short deep green sleeves that were the same color as the bottom of her costume and the pixie boots that adorned her feet. The torso was an alarming red with an "R" stitched onto the right breast

_My little robin_.

Rachel had shaken her head of the memory. She couldn't afford to remember the past. She had taken off the mask and dressed over the costume, racing down to the Cave. It felt...good to get back into it; like an old part of herself she'd been forced to shed, but was slowly growing back. She was ready for this. Batman may not think that she was, but she couldn't wait to prove him wrong.

Bruce came down in his civilian attire of an expensive business suit and shiny black shoes that could probably feed half of Russia. There was his usual, no-nonsense look as he spared her a glance. She sighed and looked over the large keyboard with its assortment of buttons and symbols. He took a deep breath and walked forward to set a large hand on her shoulder.

"Look, I know that this isn't what you expected when I let you join me, but I've seen enough of Gotham to know that it's no place for a child. I'm just trying to look out for you, Rachel."

Rachel huffed moodily and nodded in a curt motion of tolerance. His hand slipped away and she heard his expensive shoes click towards the capsule where his suit was kept, though she didn't dare look. Her heart thudded with the excitement that she had felt when she had snuck over the fence; a sick, dull kind of beat against her chest that would have made her wince under any other kind of circumstance, but at that moment she reveled in it.

_Time to put on a show._

"Bruce, I'm not up for computer duty tonight."

She smiled. By this time, he was undressing beyond the field of vision that would allow him to see her sneaking down to the Batmobile. Rachel wouldn't drag him down, she would make him realize that she could help more than just staring at a computer screen all night.

* * *

She was gonna hurl. The Batmobile was as fast as a racecar and the sharp corners that Bruce was turning were _not _helping. When Rachel had snuck a ride she didn't realize it was going to be her last. The sore girl tried to hold on to something, but there was nothing to hold on to. She grunted as she hit the front of the trunk at the abrupt stop that the vehicle had made. The sound of the door opening caught her attention and caused her heart to pound wildly.

_Would he open the trunk? Would he find her?_

She admitted she hadn't really thought out her brilliant plan, and fighting with Batman required that he knew she existed, but it still didn't calm her nerves at the silence that followed. Rachel nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of her hiding place becoming exposed. There was obvious surprise on Bruce's masked face, but it quickly turned stoic.

"You're going back to the Cave." He said it in such a final tone it was clear that he wasn't up for a debate.

_Well too bad_.

Rachel scowled and shook her head. "No, I can help you out here. Just let me show you."

His stoic expression showed no change. "And if you get shot? A knife through the gut?"

Her determination didn't waver, though her palms suddenly felt damp.

"Br-Batman, listen, I don't have to go with you on stuff like that," _yet_, she added internally, "but I can show you how well I do with the simpler stuff. You saw me take out those goons that were trying to steal from you. And that was without training, or you to back me up."

He closed his eyes and sighed. "Listen to me. I'll not be responsible for your death. I've told you why I won't have you out here with me. Gotham is no place for a child."

She rolled her eyes, though he probably couldn't see it through her mask.

"There seem to be plenty of children around."

Bruce's voice grew gruffer, and if that was any indication, he was starting to get frustrated.

"Not what I meant. We're going back to the Cave and that's final."

Not wanting to poke the sleeping bear, Rachel decided that tonight wouldn't be the night. That didn't mean she had given up hope completely, just that she had to pick her battles. Something her mother always told her when the child's temper got the best of her. Sighing loudly, she hopped out of the trunk and made her way to the front, taking the unoccupied passenger seat. On the other side, Bruce did the same. He started up the Batmobile and made a large U-turn, racing back in the direction they had come from. The petulant child sat with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes fixed at the fast moving scenery flying past the window. There was a sudden distinct beeping with some urgency. It caught Rachel's attention immediately with the insistance of the sound, and the reaction of the man in the seat next to her. He became more tense; statue like as he reached towards the console seemingly out of habit.

Just like the night she found out his secret the police operator spoke with a slightly detatched voice as she reported to the nearby officers.

"10-2 at Burlington and Chandler, current 10-17 in progress."

She didn't understand a single thing the lady had just said, but it had to mean action. Bruce wouldn't just leave it, right? He was _Batman_. From what urban legend and Alfred told her, he barely missed a crime. He wouldn't just leave...whatever a 10-17 was to take one little girl home. Her hunch had been right, as she looked at the faded street signs whipping by and swore she saw one saying Burlington. They pulled to an abrupt stop and she nearly flew out of her large seat. Next to her, Batman unbuckled and looked over at her sternly.

"Stay put."

With that he pressed a button that locked the doors and disappeared with the swish of his cape. No way was he leaving her out here like this! She refused to be thwarted by a couple locked doors when she had finally told herself that she was going to prove that brute wrong. Rachel thought about simply jiggling the handle until the lock gave in, but she doubted that the Batmobile's locks were the same as her parents' trailer. She felt a sense of urgency grip her at the thought that he might not need much time to finish up a 10-17, and that he would be all done by the time she figured out how to get out of the infernal car. Luckily, her darting eyes found the numerous buttons that adorned the driver side of the car. Bruce had definitely pressed _one _of them to lock the doors.

She just couldn't remember _which _one.

* * *

Rachel muttered under her breath as she stepped out of the car. Of course it had been the very last button, the one that she had failed to press until all the others proved false. She didn't know how much time she wasted with the buttons, but she knew that she had to act quickly. She saw that lights and sirens were coming from not too far off, and flashing blues and reds of the police cars allowed to see that they were all parked in front of a bank. Bruce probably didn't let them see him, so Rachel made it her mission to do the same. But he had a tool belt, and she had zilch. But if she had learned anything from her time with the circus, and even more so watching Batman every night, it was that it always paid to pay attention to her surroundings. Just across from her was an old apartment building, and to the right of it was a small Laundromat. On the left was an empty lot. That obviously wouldn't do her any good, and the Laundromat was a bare, squat square of a building. It was too tall for her to get on the roof and too short to be able to get her to the next roof over.

But the apartment building, even in the dim light of the yellow streetlights, clearly had a fire escape going up the side. The building itself was pretty tall, and it seemed like things were going the young acrobat's way for once. All she needed to do was find a way to get up there without waking up the occupants. Opening the truck, she grabbed her one gadget and rushed towards the apartments. There were a few creaks and bangs that had her stopping and straining her ears for any signs of people, but she surprised herself by making it up scot free. Up higher, even with her feet planted on concrete, she felt more like herself than she had in months. A nice breeze blew through her ebony hair and she smiled, breathing it in. It wasn't as fresh as she was used too, but it was better than any she'd felt.

She felt like she'd been a bird trapped in a cage finally set free.

That must have been why she'd jumped over the gap between the apartments and the Laundromat without hesitation; enjoying the light, fluttering feeling in her stomach. The jarring feeling that travelled up through her feet when she hit the other roof knocked her back into the present situation and she quickly repeated the action to the next roof, and so on until she hit a taller building. That taller building just so happened to be the bank, which sucked for this newbie seeing as though there was a wide street in between her and her objective.

_Now what do I do?_

She didn't have anything on her that could get her across, and she _was _getting into that bank. She could sneak around, but that would take too much time. She had to make a decision, and now. It looked like the only way she could do it was to somehow leap across without ending up on the hard ground. Rachel looked down at the strange tool in her hands. Her best bet was this thing, whatever it was. The strange device was shaped like a gun, with a pointed, spear-like projectile, while her slender finger teased the trigger.

Rachel aimed at the bank right across from her, and fired without hesitation. The thing pulled her across the street, above the prying eyes of the police force down below, as well as the Gothamites that had surrounded the barricade. To soften her landing she rolled and stood up quickly with an irrevocable grin on her face. She had actually made it! A definite improvement from being locked in the Batmobile. The young acrobat grew a new appreciation for the tool in her hand as she glanced around her destination. It was very clear that the skylight had been Bruce's point of entry. Looking down into the bank, she realized with trepidation just how high the roof was from the ground. She doubted her little toy could get her down there, and as one of the older buildings of Gotham, there weren't a lot of points for her to slow the descent. Just as doubt began tunneling its way into her newly gained confidence, a man dressed in black passed just under the skylight.

A very dangerous and totally awesome idea popped into her mind at the sight of him and without a second thought she leapt from her perch and began the stomach-tightening drop down. Her timing couldn't have been better as she managed to use the unaware goon as a springboard to gracefully break her fall while also knocking him out cold. No sooner had her pixie booted feet touched the ground than she heard the very distinct sound of guns being cocked. _A lot _of guns. Rachel turned to face the rest of the robbers with a schooled expression of fierceness while the little voice in her head was screaming at her to run and hide. One of the criminals, she couldn't tell which, was the one to break the silence.

"Who the hell are _you_?"

Her mind sputtered to a halt. She couldn't very well give them her real name, and she wasn't going to call herself Batgirl either. She was her own person, not an extension of her foster father's persona. Luckily Batman came just in time to get her out of trouble. He leapt from the shadows and took out the thugs' guns with bat-a-rangs before they even had time to react.

"She's with me."

In quick, fluid motions Bats beat the robbers down until they were moaning on the marble floor. Just as fluidly he turned towards her with an enraged expression.

"I told you to wait in the car."

It was concise, curt, and filled with anger. Now Rachel understood why criminals were so afraid to come out at night.

"I'm sorry, Batman."

Suddenly, she was jerked back forcefully by her hair into a sturdy body. A single arm went around her throat while cold metal was pressed against her forehead.

"Oh, don't apologize kid. You just gave me a much needed hostage."

Rachel knew this voice. It was slimy, oily, and sickeningly confident. She had heard it deliver threats to her parents before their untimely 'accident'. She had never fully believed that her mom and dad had just been unfortunate. Before every show they made sure to check, double check , and even triple check their ropes. In their line of work it paid to be cautious. Tony Zucco had wanted money, and just before the show had started Rachel had _seen _the man in the tent. Trying to tell her parents had proven useless. They had brushed it aside and continued preparing for the show. Her mother's final words had been embarrassing at the time, but now all she wanted was for her to call Rachel her little bird again.

_You remind me of a robin when you fly up there. My little robin._

Now the man that she had no doubt was behind their deaths had her trapped by her neck and the threat of a bullet to her temple. No way was she letting him get away with it. She knew that he could shoot her if she wasn't precise. She couldn't just go and scratch the hand holding her and expect not to get shot. The gun had to be the first thing to go. Quickly, while Zucco's focus was on the vigilante in front of him, she pulled the arm holding the gun down harshly, causing an accidental bullet hole in the marble. Rachel took advantage of the surprise and slackening in his hold to elbow him in the gut and step on his foot with all her might.

The crook was nowhere near the state she wanted him to be but she was proud to say she successfully got out of his hold and confiscated his firearm. While Batman took over, she stared at the object in her hands. Bruce would never let her, but there was a small part of her that really wanted to put a slug between his eyes. He had killed her only family, left her alone in the world; alone in the most dangerous _city _in the world. Yet she knew it would bring her no peace. The small part that urged her to repay his act in kind vanished with the knowledge that nothing could be reversed. He would get what he deserved.

Batman finished stringing him up for the cops and strode over to her. "That was dangerous, reckless, and totally unnecessary."

He let that hang for a moment while Rachel blushed and looked away before continuing.

"But you still managed to do more than I though you capable of. It was...good."

A smile lit up her face that would have shamed the sun, had it been out.

"Thank you Batman."

* * *

"So Mistress Grayson, might I ask what you have decided to call yourself?"

Alfred's question had somehow brought a measure of finality to the situation. There was no going back after tonight.

The new vigilante thought on it for only a moment or two before her gaze fell the costume she was still wearing. Both Bruce and the elderly butler next to him seemed ready for an answer, and she knew exactly what her name would be.

"Robin."

The billionaire seemed to accept this and simply turned towards the Batcomputer. Alfred, however, raised a single white brow. She understood without him having to voice anything.

"It was a family name. I think it's best to keep it that way."

Though neither said a word, she easily saw Alfred's smile, and even if she couldn't see his face at the moment, it helped to imagine that Bruce was smiling too.

* * *

**I KNOW I SUCK. Trust me, if anyone reviewed, they would probably all be on why in the hell it took me so long to get this done. Truth be told, every time I tried to approach it I got stuck not long after starting, and then I went on a week long vacation; seeing the sights and smelling the smelly smells that smell smelly. After that, it was all about other projects that just ate up everything. I have to be in a certain mood to write certain things, and unfortunately for this story I honestly couldn't get into the right mood to pick up.**

**BUT IT'S FINALLY DONE SO WE'RE ALL GOOD NOW.**

**Right?**

**Besides that, a little tidbit for the apprentice fanatics out there who have actually read my story. Just like in the last chapter, after this note finishes I'm going to have a snippet from the developing interest of one Slade Wilson A.K.A Deathstroke. As I have said before and shall now say again: This is part of a series. Most likely I will have the apprentice arc after I finish with Origins, so reading this, while not necessary does add a little to the characters and relationships. **

**WARNING: ****_FOR ALL THOSEWHO JUST WANT A LITTLE FEMROB FLUFF, YOU HAVE ALREADY FINSIHED. FOR THOSE INTERESTED IN THE SEQUEL TO THIS, CONTINUE READING_**

* * *

He reviewed the security tape once more. The Bat had been very careful to cover his tracks by disrupting the footage, but Slade Wilson didn't have access to 90% of his brain for nothing. The girl was most definitely new, and though she was sloppy and obviously wet-behind-the-ears, she still had much potential. He chuckled as he noted her boneheaded stunt of jumping straight down from the skylight. Boneheaded, yet very clever. It took care of one of her enemies while also breaking her fall. Deathstroke's single eye narrowed in thought.

Lex, the bald idiot, had never been able to completely clear his debt to the assassin. Sure he had the money to pay most anything, but the debt wasn't about money. It was about the smug bastard's damn intellect. Though anyone could see the untapped potential of the girl on the tape, he would consider the billionaire's 'debt' paid in full. But he would still wait before telling him. He might need Luthor for something in the near future. He heard one of the gunmen voice a question that had been toying with Slade since he first clapped eyes on the girl.

_Who __**are **__you?_


	5. Legends

**HEY EVERYBODY!**

***SILENCE***

**Oh come on, is this about the whole hostage readers thing? I ****_swear _****I wasn't basing it on real life.**

**Much.**

**ANYWHOSERS, let's get on with the story! So last chapter was pretty good, longest chapter I ever wrote to be sure. Also the longest I probably took to update BUT OH WELL LET'S NOT DWELL ON THE PAST. **

**No sense in wasting time: LET'S GO ON THE MAGIC ADVENTURE OF CHAPTER FIVE!**

* * *

Legends- an extremely famous or notorious person, especially in a particular field. Synonyms: celebrity, giant, icon.

* * *

Life had never been harder. After her little stunt at the bank, Bruce had actually agreed to taking her on as his protégée. Training was rigorous. There were days were Rachel's muscles were so used that Bruce had to carry her back up to the Mansion. Alfred had disapproved at first, but she thought he was starting to grow on the idea. Four months of training added on to the five months she had spent before her discovery meant that it was almost a year since her parents' deaths. It was amazing and heartbreaking to think about, so she didn't. She lost herself in the training and the homeschooling. There were times where she would look up from her breakfast, which was now identical to Bruce's, and find him looking at her with an expression of unknown emotion. If Rachel had to guess, it was a cross between empathy and pity.

At night, she had begun to push for patrol. Bruce was weakening, she knew it. Today, she was practicing her concentration, as she had quickly mastered the various types of fighting styles that Bruce had taught her, as well as adding a few of her own tricks to them. Her background as a circus performer helped her with the otherwise more difficult moves, and put a little more unique style on it. Rachel sat there, desperately holding on to her still position. All the while her leg begged to wiggle and her foot to twitch; her fingers itching to click against the stone. With no actions to occupy her mind she was afraid that it would begin to wonder into things best left dusty and unused.

Finally, her impatience won out and she looked to Bruce, who sat typing away at the large computer.

"Bruce, when do I get to go on patrol with you?"

He stopped and turned towards her with a stern expression.

"After the stunt you pulled when I went out on the streets with you the first time, you should consider yourself luck I'm letting you be my partner."

They young girl huffed in annoyance but didn't push the matter anymore. If he was going to play that card, she'd _never _go on patrol. She pouted and sat glumly on the training mat while Bruce continued to work on the computer. There was silence between the two until Bruce sighed loudly and broke it.

"Another month and you can go on patrol with me."

Rachel's heart swelled and she whooped loudly; doing cartwheels and tumbles and backflips and any other gymnastic tricks she could think of in her happiness. He'd agreed to patrol! Even the fact that it seemed far away couldn't dampen her joy. She was finally on her way to becoming a full-fledged vigilante. She never could have imagined this! Granted, she hadn't really thought that Batman was real either before, but this was _awesome_! While she continued to do victory acrobatics, she could hear the sound of Bruce talking. She stopped and noticed that Alfred wasn't in the Batcave. When she turned towards her foster father turned mentor, she saw that he was still facing the computer, but his fingers were pressed to his ear. He finished talking quickly and swiveled in his chair to face her.

"There's an off-world emergency that needs to be taken care of."

The new excitement forgotten, she sighed. Alfred hadn't been feeling well the past two days, so while he was in bed resting (per the insistent demands of Bruce, despite the butler's protests) she would be stuck here to be bored. A pout formed on her lips and she nodded tersely. Surely she could find something to amuse herself. It was a big house after all. Bruce noticed her sour disposition and stood from his chair. He didn't spare her a glance and headed for his costume.

"If you can get ready in five minutes, I'll take you up to the Watchtower."

Rachel grinned brightly and nodded. Her circus costume had needed a few adjustments, so she would have to make do with plainclothes. She didn't even know what Watchtower he was talking about, but she knew it meant something new. She was ready in no less than four minutes, and it was refreshing to see the ghost of a smirk on Batman's face when she got back down to the Cave with time to spare. He began walking to a part of the Batcave she'd never noticed before (it was a surprisingly big cave) while she followed closely behind. A large machine built into the wall began to hum and a bright light nearly blinded her while a serene voice announced Bruce's hero name as well as some sort of code. When she opened her eyes she nearly screamed in disbelief.

She was in _space_!

Batman quickly garnered her attention.

"Robin, this is the Watchtower. The rest of the Justice League is on board, and many of the newer members don't know our identities. Be sure to keep it that way. I'll be back in a few hours."

Still in awe of the fact that she was in _space_, Rachel nodded with wide eyes. He handed her a pair of shades and turned back towards the transporter.

"Put those on. I want you to keep out of sight, but if you bump in to someone on the station, the glasses will keep your eyes covered."

And then he was gone.

* * *

Robin had been up here only an hour and already she had caused a stir. She didn't know it, but several heroes had caught glances of her around the Watchtower, and whispers had begun of a _child _on the station. In the cafeteria there was a loud roar of different heroes putting their theories on what exactly a kid was doing there. By the time the rumors reached Diana, Shayera, and Hal, who were eating together, it had been blown up to 'villains using children to spy on them'. Hawkgirl snorted and slammed her tray down with a little more force than necessary.

"Can you believe it? What will people think of next, that kittens in trees are actually traps for unsuspecting heroes?"

Wonder Woman nodded her head sagely. "I can't imagine that any of Batman's firewalls and encryptions were broken just to get a small child up here. Perhaps it was just one of the heroes with shrinking powers."

"Or they made it up for the sake of gossip."

Both women agreed with Green Lantern's cynical statement, deciding to leave it at that.

* * *

After another two hours Robin was beginning to wonder if Bruce was _ever _coming back. He was taking too long, in her opinion.

Maybe something went wrong? What if he needed her help?

She shook those thoughts away. He had done just fine before her, he would come back and in a month she would be going on patrol with him. She had a firm belief in that, and she would hold him to it as soon as he appeared from his mission. She had no doubt that he would commend her for staying out of sight, in his own way. Still, she hadn't eaten since very early that morning, and her stomach was grumbling something fierce as tantalizing smell after smell wafted to her nose from somewhere close. Maybe if she just...

_No_. If she couldn't deal with a little hunger pang how would she be able to go on stakeouts or patrol until late into the night? She should just keep out of sight and wait until Batman came back to eat. She could hold out for that long, right? Her stomach rumbled and she hoped that he came back soon. Maybe if she wandered around it could take her mind off of her hunger.

All Robin had to do was stay out of sight.

* * *

Diana slowly walked back to her quarters from monitor duty, grateful to stretch her legs after three hours of sitting in front of a screen. The rumor of a child had thankfully died down to a murmur, almost completely forgotten by everyone. She had yet to hear from Superman or Batman on the status of their off-world mission, but if they'd been gone this long, perhaps it wasn't going smoothly. She would go to help them, but she knew that she was no good to them tired, and even though she couldn't tell what time it was, she was exhausted. Before teleporting up to the Watchtower, Cheetah had managed to do a real number on her.

When she arrived at her room she punched in the numbers with the sweet feeling of being close to a bed. Once she laid down she had no doubt she'd-

The thought was interrupted by the sight of something lumpy and small under her covers. The idle gossip of a child on the station came back to her full force and she found herself wondering if they weren't right. The lump moved and groaned at the automatic lights before jolting up and causing the blankets to fall off. Wide blue eyes stared into even wider blue eyes. Quicker than Wonder Woman could get a question out, the little girl stuck shades on her face and darted out of the room.

The older hero's tiredness momentarily forgotten, she followed after the child. Sadly she wasn't fast enough, and she lost the girl. Diana sighed and began walking back to her room. Perhaps it was just her sleep deprived brain telling her what she needed was a good long nap, because really, why _would _there be a young girl on the Watchtower?

* * *

Shayera was the next one to run into the little girl. She had been going back to the cafeteria for some much needed fuel after a fight with Grundy and Copperhead on Earth. Unbeknownst to her, Diana had run into the child only half an hour before, and had since fallen into a deep slumber. In the mess hall the heroes had decreased dramatically in number; most having gone back to wherever they came from on Earth or space. Since Diana had gone to bed, the roaring rumor had turned into ash. It had been completely forgotten for the next new thing, and Hawkgirl couldn't be more pleased. Even if for some reason there really was a kid on the station, the crazy theories had really grated on her nerves.

She got a try full of food and sat down at an empty table. She had only been five minutes into her meal when a loud grumble sounded. She was sure it wasn't her, otherwise she would have felt it. She supposed it could have been another hero passing by, and figured it was, until it sounded again, even louder this time. What could it be? It wasn't her, but it was near her. Looking around provided nothing but other tables with a few heroes sitting at them. The third time the grumble sounded she heard something else with it.

"Shhhh!"

_Ahhh..._

Shayera looked under the table quickly only to see what she had dismissed as a myth. Right in front of her was a little girl wearing some plainclothes and shades, along with a deep blush. There was a quiet rumble and the girl quickly placed her hands over her stomach, twisting the material of her jacket. A maternal instinct came out and Hawkgirl was slightly disgusted that she had the urge to coo at the embarrassed child.

"Um...I'm not supposed to be seen." She whispered quietly.

The older hero chuckled and put up a finger in a gesture of '_wait just a moment_'. Going back above the table she plucked an entire breast of grilled chicken from her tray and discreetly put it under the table. It was taken from her hand in a flash and she smiled. Despite the fact that she should probably be wary of a child on one, if not _the_, most secure place imaginable, but she just didn't get the vibe of _spy _or _villain_ from the girl.

A very quiet _thank you _was whispered from under the table and Shayera felt her smile grow, but when she stuck her head back under the table to check on her, the girl was gone. In her place were a couple ones and a quarter.

* * *

Only twenty minutes after the cafeteria incident, Hal Jordon had his own run-in with the growingly infamous child on the Watchtower. He had forgotten all about the rumor, so when he saw something out of the corner of his eye while watching television in the lounge room, he wrote it off as a trick of the florescent light. He and a couple other heroes, including Flash, were hanging out in the lounge with the TV playing some show that passed the time. He stared at the moving pictures without really seeing until the giggle sounded. It was more like an ominous cackle than anything. Green Lantern looked around at the other people in the room, but they were completely absorbed in whatever was on. Maybe that's what it was. The television.

Yeah, that's what made the noise...

He reasoned himself with that and returned his attention to the screen. Only a moment or two later is when he felt his hair being ruffled. He turned to Barry on his right with a scowl that showed he was not amused.

"Did you think that was cute?"

The speedster gave him a look of genuine confusion. "What?"

Doubt clouded his scowl until he remember that just last month he had pulled about the same trick. Flash had gently shoved him and pulled on his clothes in a lame attempt to make him believe the station was haunted. Hal didn't respond and let him think that he had pulled a fast one on him (pun intended). He could hear the childish snickering right next to him that told him all he needed to know.

* * *

Barry Allen was not a happy speedster. After _someone _had ruffled Hal's hair, lightly scratched the back of his neck, and kicked him through the sofa, he had had enough. But instead of blaming the real culprit, he had thrown Flash out of the lounge room. Now, with nothing to occupy his mind, he headed to the cafeteria to load up on food. He knew for a fact that the kitchen fridge and freezer were always well stocked. His mouth salivated at the thought of all those yummy edibles.

He could practically _taste _the Rocky Road.

Well on his way to the cafeteria, he was derailed with he swore he saw something move in the shadows. He shook his head at the thought. It was nothing, and he wouldn't let it keep him from food. When he finally got to the mess hall, he felt eyes on him. A little creeped out but no less hungry, he continued to the kitchen and its gloriously large refrigerator. He quickly opened the freezer and snatched the large tub of Rocky Road ice cream that had been calling out to him since this afternoon. He had been in Central City all day fighting off Captain Boomerang's latest and lamest harebrained scheme, so he had never heard the short lived rumor of a child on board the 'Tower, so it would make sense that when he turned around to see a young girl standing on the counter behind him, he would drop the tub he had been happily eating out of and let out a yelp.

The automatic lights had luckily been on for him to see her apologetic expression. "Sorry. I just wanted..."

There was a pointed stare at the ground where the now half gone tub of Rocky Road lay on its side. Barry picked it up and got another spoon from the silverware drawer with a smile. Her slight blush was just too cute, and he couldn't help but feel a little paternal at the hesitant way she started before they both began munching happily. It reminded him a little of his nephew, though the speedster was pretty sure Wally was a little older.

"So kid, what brings you to the Watchtower?"

She swallowed her bite of ice cream before wiping her mouth on her sleeve.

"I-"

Just at that moment Barry felt a large presence behind him as a deep voice spoke.

"She's my partner."

The girl smiled happily while Flash whipped around and stared at the big bad Bat like he'd gone mad, which in his opinion, he had.

"What?!"

* * *

Robin met Superman very last. Both he and her mentor had small tears in their costumes and a few cuts and bruises, but overall looked tired. After having a wonderful late-night (at least, she _thought _it was late at night) snack with the Flash and Bruce's bold statement, he had brought her back to the transporter where Superman stood facing away from them at the control panel. To be honest, she was feeling a little nervous. When Haley's had done their show in Metropolis, she had heard all about the city's great hero. He couldn't be hurt by bullets and could lift entire _buildings_. He had lasers that shot out of his eyes, freeze you with his breath, and had ears that heard things from miles away.

A part of her, the part that was still an irrational child, worried that if he didn't like her, Superman could convince Bruce to give her up. Rachel quickly squashed that fear as nonsense. Batman wasn't the type of man to be bullied into something. He wouldn't do something like that. The hero at the console finally turned around and she watched as his eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

"Bruce, who-"

Robin's eyes widened and she quickly shushed him. He knew Batman's secret identity?

Superman smiled at her wryly. "I see she's already well trained."

Her mentor didn't say anything. He merely placed a hand on her shoulder and ushered her forward towards the transporter. The other man sighed and began typing something into the console while the duo waited. Before the blinding light could teleport them back to the Batcave, she smiled at him and waved.

"I'm Robin! Nice to meet you!"

* * *

**Pretty much a filler chapter, but it's still cute!**

***MORE SILENCE***

**Me: *mumble mumble* Well, ****_I _****think it's cute.**

***Crickets chirping***

**Me: HOW LONG ARE YOU GOING TO KEEP THIS UP?**

***Tumble weed blowing in the wind***

**Me: *sigh* At least now I know why reviews are so scarce these days.**

***Oldest fanfiction writer walks in***

**Writer: Quit yer complainin' whippersnapper! Why, back in my day...**

**Me: Oh god. If there's anyone out there, review and save me!**

**Writer: Don't interrupt, it's rude. Anyway, as I was asayin'...**


	6. Obsession

**OH MY GOD is this even a thing? After like a year long hiatus a fanfiction writer is updating? I swear all my favorite stories that haven't been updated in forever stay that way. So sorry for all those who still check, but here it is!**

* * *

Obsess- preoccupy or fill the mind of (someone) continually, intrusively, and to a troubling extent. Synonyms: grip, posses, rule.

* * *

Cloudy light streamed through the window next to Rachel's bed. As she stared at the particles that played in the beam she sighed and stretching languidly under her comforter. Last night had been a rougher patrol than she had expected, and the deep bruises on her side and the soreness that came with them while she moved were the evidence to show it. She had hidden it from Bruce - or at least, had tried to - with the fear that he would try and keep her from patrol tonight. He had been hinting at it anyway, as apparently Valentine's Day was full of deranged sickos with fixated obsessions and too much time on their hands.

Rachel had just started as his partner, and she'd be damned if he stopped her now.

Now utterly excited for the day ahead, she sprung up to stand on her bed and bounce for a few seconds before jumping off with a flip. She was ready for anything.

Twenty minutes later, she was proven wrong. Rachel had definitely not been ready for the strange expression on Bruce's face as he stared at the mail Alfred had brought in. Per Valentine's Day tradition, there were quite a few pink or heart-shaped (or both) letters. He hadn't been opening them long before a very uncharacteristic blush spread dully across his cheeks. He looked to his ward, who sat across from him at the kitchen island, where they usually ate their meals; forgoing the great distance of the dining room table.

She herself had never received a valentine not from her parents, so it would be interesting to see what the women wrote to her foster father. By the looks of it, something that had the power to make_Batman _blush. For a usually placid and neutral man, a blush - even a small one - was something to really wonder over.

"Rachel, why don't you...uh..."

The loyal Wayne butler swooped in for the save with his usual cool demeanor. "Mistress Grayson, might you help me prepare for lunch?"

"Lunch? But it's nine in the morning."

He merely lifted a single, silver, dubious brow. "Your input would be greatly appreciated."

She shrugged and slipped off her chair. If Bruce needed some alone time he only had to ask.

* * *

Rachel sighed. She had no idea that much work went into preparing one meal.

_Well, maybe it wouldn't have been as much work if I hadn't messed around and nearly destroyed the kitchen._

Due to her clearly destructive skills in the kitchen, Alfred had gently thrown her out. She might be able to take down thugs like nobody's business, but cooking was definitely _not _as easy. The poor butler was probably going to have to start from scratch, which would set back their midday meal nearly an hour. Seeing as though she was no longer a part of the kitchen faculty, she supposed she could get started on making cards. Still, she still had the rest of Valentine's Day to write Bruce and Alfred cards, a tradition in her family that would not go unnoticed in her new one, so she sighed again and began brainstorming what she could do with her time. It was sadly much too early in the day for patrol or anything like that. Rachel squished her unreasonable disappointment. In the short time since starting her late night adventures with Batman, she had learned to love patrol more than anything.

The excitement of patrol got her fingers tingling; her heart pumping a song that made her blood hum.

Flying through the air, she felt her nerve endings tingle in a familiar and tantalizing sensation Rachel hadn't felt since she had performed in front of a crowd of hundreds. Yet what was even more enticing about her new persona was the fact that it was hers to keep. Before, she had had to share it with onlookers, and though she would always enjoy the expressions of awe on their faces at her daring feat, she now had a secret that would trump all other secrets; a private pastime meant to help those in need.

She was alive again; as free as the wind.

But with the sun still making its way across the sky, she had to stay cooped up in the house. Until the moon's cool light shone on the skyscrapers and dim lampposts cast light against the innumerable shadows, she was trapped inside a life that didn't allow her as much freedom as a simple scrap of fabric over her eyes. It was disappointing, but something she would have to deal with for the rest of her life.

Rachel understood, she just didn't agree.

She decided that she might as well make those cards now. Maybe a little arts and crafts would keep her distracted enough to get through the day.

* * *

She was going to scream.

For the life of her, Rachel couldn't remember how exactly her mother had shown her to cut a heart. She wasn't stupid, and knew that something that girly might embarrass Bruce, but it was how she did them every year she could remember. There was no way she wasn't going to this one.

She had actually spent quite a bit of time up in her room making a giant mess of it in all her numerous attempts at a usable card. It was now almost time for lunch, and Rachel _still _didn't have anything to show for it. Maybe it was a sign that she shouldn't give a man who went out on the streets of Gotham every night dressed as a bat a red, heart-shaped card, even if it was Valentine's Day.

But Alfred would take one without batting an eye, and he had been so helpful despite his subtle disapproval of her night life. She would just have to forgo lunch and keep going. She was determined to make at least one usable card before the day was out.

* * *

He sighed. Bruce was in the place he always was, the Batcave. You would think that when holidays came around, crime might take a little break, but if anything it increased. People who took advantage of the feelings of every holiday with scams and threats. And if he had ever thought that Christmas was rough...

Valentine's Day was full of obsessed stalkers who fell under the sway of the holiday. There were always a lot of crimes of passion. Those didn't end very well most of the time, so he planned on keeping Rachel here at the Manor. It wasn't a good idea to expose her to that type of mind so early on in the partnership. He felt bad enough that he let her into this life, he wouldn't jeopardize her any more than necessary. Not to mention the one thing he could count on every year.

Bruce stared solemnly up at his large computer screen and refused to cringe at the image before him.

Commissioner Gordon had just sent over a file on a recent case, and it wasn't pretty. No other known aliases, no permanent address, no close friends or relatives, and nearly fifteen dead over the course of a single month. The last victim was in hospital, but it didn't look like she'd make it. The acts were gruesome, senseless, and directed very clearly towards Batman's new partner.

The Joker had gone on a spree through Gotham, headed right for him.

* * *

A quick supper was ready for Rachel when she finally came out of hiding, but she definitely was not ready for the short meal before patrol. Her room was littered with red teardrop-looking halves of all her fruitless attempts, with nothing to show for it but the mess Alfred would no doubt make her clean up after Bruce dropped her off for the night. There was always a part of her that longed to go with him when he raced back out into the dingy night of Gotham's streets before her body reminded her of her very basic human need for sleep.

She ate her helping in small bites and mostly just played with her food until she looked up to see Bruce looking at her gravely.

"Is there anything you need to talk about Rachel?"

He seemed in his element for once around her, giving her a look that brooked no argument. In came to her that he almost seemed to be…_interrogating _her.

"Uh, not really no."

A disbelieving look planted itself and didn't leave the entire time they finished eating, or even when they went down to the Batcave. Only when he had on his cape and cowl did it disappear, just to be replaced by his usual grim expression as Batman.

He had gotten ready quicker than usual, which was really saying something. He was approaching her in full costume before she could even get her bright red vest over her head.

"I don't want you on patrol tonight."

Now she was the one with a look of disbelief. He had done it. She had only been going with him on patrols for a week, and now here he was trying to cut her out again.

"Bruce! There's nothing these baddies can throw at me that I can't handle. Your training was pretty thorough."

As if reading her real fear he softened his voice. "Not for good. Just tonight."

Still, her dander was up, and she wasn't going to be appeased.

"Why?! Why tonight of all nights?"

Bruce grabbed her shoulders tightly. "Listen to me, Rachel. You're sitting this one out or there won't be a Robin."

Something in his voice, or even just how hard he was holding her shoulders, scared her. It felt almost…desperate. However a large part of her wondered if this could all be an act. Doubt was high, especially when she thought of how well he fooled the rest of the world into believing he wasn't Batman. There seemed only one course of action: fool _him_.

"Alright. Just this once."

* * *

Sneaking out to go on patrol solo was simpler than Rachel had thought it would be. She simply waited until she felt Bruce had been gone long enough, and Alfred was busy enough doing his butlery stuff. Of course, she didn't have the Batmobile so it took a while, but eventually she made it to the city.

Sure she wasn't as powerful as Bruce, but that didn't mean she couldn't hold her own. She managed to take down quite a few lowlifes in no time at all. Soaring over the busy streets of Gotham was exhilarating, empowering. In no time at all she was coming upon bigger crimes. There was a jewelry store being robbed by a bunch of goons stuffing their pockets with gems and pearls. She noticed a back entrance guarded by a single man with a Beretta and smiled triumphantly. She had just found her entry point.

Robin dropped a smoke pellet and smirked at the instant confusion that spread across the group.

"What the hell? Is it the Bat? What does he think he's trying to pull?!"

She rolled her eyes. Bruce thought he was protecting her? This patrol was no more difficult than the rest, and these idiots clearly weren't going to take much time or energy at all.

Someone grabbed her hand and she heard a course voice from behind her. "I got 'im!"

There were sounds of several approaching enemies and Robin knew she had to get out of the grip fast.

"Hey! This isn't the Bat! This little bitch thinks she's some kinda ninja sneakin' around."

Robin swung her fist into the man's gut, forcing him to let her go. The smoke was thinning and the man was recovering quickly; she had to think a way out. _Now_.

Where was her training when she needed it? She and Bruce were nowhere near finished, but she had made great progress in her short time - enough that he let her go on patrol for some hands on learning. Too bad for her it apparently wasn't enough. The man recovered and whipped out a HKP7 with a look on his face that told her he wasn't one to lose sleep over a little bloodshed. As soon as his finger twitched Robin was up and away, using her grappling hook to swing into the rafters.

Rachel dropped down silently and snuck up behind them. Pulling on leg of each thug out from under them, she got them down to her height. As soon as they were short enough, she grabbed both their heads and slammed them against the oak lip of the showcase. She smiled brightly just as something solid hit her back harshly, causing her to fall flat on her stomach. Robin slowly trailed her eyes from the tattered shoes that stepped in front of her to a purple pant clad leg before she reached the view of the mystery man's face. The infamous Clown Prince of Crime stared down at her with a staid expression of disgust as he eyed her. That alone had her heart pounding loudly in fear. Her terror had her wide-eyed and frozen in place dumbly until her mentor's voice dragged her out of her stupor.

"_Robin_!"

She turned to find him stuck fighting what she guessed was left of Joker's men.

"Jeez Bats, no need to get so _paternal_."

Batman's speed increased on the men in front of him while the crazed villain's smile grew ever larger and his bone chilling cackle filled the crisp spring air.

"What's with the young blood? Don't tell me you forgot to wear protection!"

This caused another fit of creepy laughter. Robin got up quickly, but she didn't know what to do. She supposed that Batman hadn't planned on her meeting the Joker this early, because he hadn't gone over a procedure or fighting style. All she knew was what he had in his file on the deranged criminal. She wasn't familiar enough with her tool belt to know which gadgets were where. Robin opened a random pouch and found a rope with two metal balls at each end. She threw it at the Joker's feet and was rewarded with it wrapping around and causing him to fall. She smiled at her success, but it didn't last long when he dove straight for her. Robin was forced to flip back while his switchblade cut nothing but air. He turned to her new spot with a pout.

"Aww c'mon now! I just wanted some fun, _Robbie-poo_."

Even with his playful tone, it was clear that his definition of fun greatly varied from hers.

"I'd heard that you had some new kid fighting with you, so I thought I'd break out of Arkham and give her the old Gotham welcome!"

All too late Robin realized that Bruce hadn't been faking his worry. The Joker was something to fear, and she just refused to pay enough attention to her mentor's. With Batman still dealing with the remaining goons she was going to have to think of a way out of this on her own, or at least stall until he could reach them. With this tentative plan in mind she set her body in a fighting stance and studied the Joker's movements carefully; or more specifically the crowbar in his hands.

With some erratic swings at her, he backed her further and further away from Batman. When she realized this she also felt herself stumble right into something solid.

"Hold her, you idiot."

Hands like clamps latched onto her and Joker swung right into her temple.

* * *

Joker's face was the first thing she saw once she regained consciousness. He gestured broadly to their surroundings and Robin noted the room was bare save for a few rusted barrels scattered about. She couldn't tell how long she'd been out because the building they were in had completely boarded up windows.

"It's my home away from home, or usually in my case, my home away from Arkham! Ahahahahahahahaha!"

The crazed clown held up an old looking wood bat and his manic grin grew. "Ironic, don't you think?"

She didn't say anything, partly out of fear, but mostly out of defiance. As Robin she couldn't afford to let fear get the best of her. Joker frowned, but it only lasted a few brief seconds before the grin came back like it never left.

"Tonight, little bird brain, is _aaalll_ about earning some wings. I don't know how old you are, but I bet it's high and mighty time you got 'em. And as the very first person to ever dare fight crime beside the Bat, you've got to get your wings the same way he got his."

The first strike hit her arm with enough force to send fiery pain shooting all the way to her neck. She hadn't heard a snap, but it definitely _felt _broken. She muffled her whimper with a tightening of her lips, but there was enough to satisfy the Joker. He began speaking again, but he made sure to move the bat from hand to hand as he paced in front of her.

"I understand this may seem like a _harsh_ way of welcoming you to the family, but it's the _only_ way!"

He stopped and hit her in the back. The air left her lungs in a rush and she struggled to get it all back while he continued. His pace was leisurely and unhurried. He practically _strolled_ his way around her.

"The three of us really are a family, Robbie-poo. You have your batty daddy and your handsome Uncle J, and then you! The little prodigy of the group. I can definitely say that I never saw _you _coming, but oh well. At least now I have someone more expressive to play with."

The bat struck her stomach with a _thump_.

"_Oof_!"

"I just hope you realize that I'm not the one that's going to kill you, Robbie. It's Batsy's fault for putting you in harm's way. The streets of Gotham are no place for little girls like you, ya know."

Instead of responding, Rachel spit in his face, both happy and terrified that her action managed to wipe the manic grin off his face...

"You know, before _you _came into the picture, it was simple. I would blow up something, maybe kill a person or two, and then he would show up. Now that you're here, you've gone and spoiled my game."

His voice became deeper, somehow even more sinister. "_My _game, bird brain. I don't much appreciate that. I've been leaving little breadcrumbs all over Gotham for him to come and find me. It's not in him to ignore a chance to pummel me, so it's obvious that he didn't see them. He's getting slower, more tired. _Losing his edge_. And I can't have that."

Joker's unnaturally cheery personality came back as swiftly as it had gone. He was smiling again; with more purpose and a tighter grip on his bat. He raised it high above his head and Robin's throbbing body tensed in preparation. Her throat closed around a sob that was begging to come out, but she wouldn't let him hear it even if he killed her. Was this really how it was going to end? So soon? She shook those thoughts away. Rachel had to have hope that Bruce was coming for her. Even as she grunted and shrieked at the wild swings of Joker's bat he spoke to her; taunting her relentlessly.

"You're a fake. A charlatan. A _fraud_."

His last word was punctuated with a vicious swing that she feared just might have broken a rib, not to mention knocking the wind right out of her. He stopped after that for a brief respite, leaning on the bat and getting his ragged breathing under control.

"If Batsy really," _pant_, "and I mean _really _wanted to," _pant pant_, "don't you think he would have crashed through that window already?"

Her mind was foggy from pain, her chest hurt indescribably every time she took a breath. Did this place have windows? Bruce had taught her to take in her surroundings thoroughly at all times, and she could have sworn she did that when she had woken up, but she couldn't remember if there were windows. Sluggishly she turned her head to look but her vision was blurry - whether from tears or trauma she didn't know. Her captor seemed to have gotten his breath back and was walking around her. Even with impaired vision it was easy to tell with the menacing clack of his tattered shoes and the dull whoosh of the bat as he swung it around. Soon his voice, soft yet terrifying, began again and surrounded her as he circled his prey like any wild predator would.

"You know Robbie, I'm going to let you in on a little secret of mine. I don't think I've ever gone to this much trouble for anyone before. It's because I'm concerned about our friend the Bat. He just hasn't been himself for a while. _Months _really. It was like I was telling you before, he's losing his edge; getting soft. Some might say it's just his old age, but you and I both know that's not it. He's as spry as ever in my opinion. Still, he's slipping up, making mistakes he wouldn't have made before. Do you know what they call it?"

The only answer Robin gave - the only one she was capable of giving- was her troubled wheezing as she sucked in agonizing breath after breath. Though she couldn't see his face she knew there was no doubt a cold grin at his handiwork.

"They call it 'baby-brain', Robbie-poo. He's often late, exhausted, preoccupied with..._other _things. Things that aren't worthy of his time! When I realized this, I decided to take action and get the old Bats back. The best way to get baby off the brain is to get rid of baby, little sidekick, and _you're _the baby."

The next sound out of her was somewhere between a choked sob and her troubled breathing. Joker made his way back around and crouched right in front of her face.

"Awww, c'mon now Bird Brain, think of it this way: I'll be _saving _you. The city we live in – hell, the _world _we live in is already screaming with madness. Whatever made this planet was pulling the ultimate joke on its future inhabitants. War, rape, tsunamis, even the next episode of that damn TV show that just won't quit. It's all an endless loop of insanity; I'm just breaking the chain one link at a time."

Rachel had readied herself for another strike of the bloody bat, but the villain surprised her by pulling out a long syringe. The green liquid inside glinted menacingly in the florescent lights and gave her a level of fear she never knew existed as he reached for her.

* * *

Batman held the thug's head up by his hair and glared threateningly. Around him, the rest of the occupant of the (now destroyed) bar groaned and nursed their broken arms and bashed skulls. The lowlife now under his scrutiny was in obvious pain from the shattered knee that Bruce had so generously given him.

"I'm looking for the Joker," he growled darkly. This criminal was low on the totem pole, to say the least, but Drew Mackey had worked for the psychotic clown three years ago.

The vigilante pulled harder on the hair caught in his firm grip while the other man's already pale face turned ashen. He didn't care if Drew was cut in half as long as he gave the answers Bruce was looking for. He had no doubt in Rachel's steel hard determination and resilience, but she'd never dealt with anyone as sick as the Joker. Already the worst possible scenarios were playing out endlessly in his mind, and the only way they could be stopped was finding Robin before anything happened to her.

"I don't run wit' him no more. You gots the wrong guy."

The Bat didn't say anything. He let his actions do the talking for him, and right then his action was reaching for the shattered knee that would wrench every little drop of information from the worm breathing raggedly in pain. He saw the deliberate movement and began practically squealing in panic.

"No no no no! Wait! Wait! He's got a lot of places over the city! You've caught him enough times you oughta know."

"_Not _what I was looking for."

Batman applied some pressure to the injured knee, which earned him an ear-curdling scream and more desperate information.

"It-it depends on what he's doin'!"

"He kidnapped a girl."

Drew groaned in pain, and when he spoke his voice was thin with pain. "Who?"

He must have noticed the suspicion on his interrogator's face. "It matters."

His glare intensified to the point that he was sure his mask whites were nothing but slivers.

"My partner."

The goon apparently still had it in him to laugh. "That oughta teach you, huh?"

More pressure was mercilessly applied to the shattered patella and the laughing stopped immediately. Mackey was on the verge of passing out; Bruce had to work fast.

"_Where_?"

"He has this old chemical warehouse. Near the docks."

Batman finally released the man's slick hair and his head landed on the hard floor of the grimy bar with a loud _thunk_, but Drew didn't seem to care, as he had already passed out by the time his head was out of the vigilante's grip.

* * *

Robin wanted to scream but instead she laughed. And laughed. And _laughed._

"Look at me bird brain. Eyes on me. Don't pass out on me _now_, we've got so much more to do!"

She turned away in a weak act of defiance, though by this point her eye were watering to the point she wouldn't be able to see him clearly anyway. Hastily she unlatched the hand not holding her wound and fumbled at her belt's numerous pockets in an increasingly desperate manner. She clumsily searched around as her throat began to close and her forced laughter became choked. Her fingers finally clasped themselves around a syringe tightly. The young vigilante pulled it out only to feel a foot slam down harshly on her wrist. Her grip didn't loosen, but her laughter increased in place of the yelp that would have come out.

"Not this time Robbie. I know all the big ol' Bat's tricks, and they're not going to ruin the fun this time."

He raised a shiny revolver and Robin closed her eyes. If she was going to die she didn't want to do it looking at his smug face. Just when she thought it was all over there was a crashing sound and the oh-so beautiful voice of Bruce.

"_Joker_."

Her eyes were so heavy. Getting them open was difficult, but when she did she saw Batman deliver a tooth-loosening punch to the Joker's jaw. He made a grunt of pain and stumbled back, holding his injured face. Even this didn't stop his laughter (or hers) when he got a good look at the furious man before him.

"You should know now Bats that _this _is what happens when you drag someone into our crazy little game! And here I thought that I would give you her heart for Valentine's Day!"

Batman lunged for the clown. There was fury in every fluid move he made; the Joker was no match for his flurry of attacks. Once he was finally finished with punching and kicking the deranged man, he grabbed his neck and lifted him until his tattered shoes barely grazed the ground. There was a near imperceptible tightening in his grip when the clown's crazed eyes wandered over to where Robin was lying prone and on the verge of suffocating on her uncontrollable laughter.

"Looks like I still win Batsy!" He managed to choke out.

Bruce finally focused on his partner's state and dropped the clown carelessly, rushing over to her. Spots were dancing over her already impaired vision, so she never saw him pull out the antidote, but she felt the quick, sharp puncture of the needle before everything was dark once more.

* * *

The sight that greeted Rachel the second time she woke was much more welcome.

Bruce's relieved face, as well as Alfred's, hovered over her as her eyes cracked open. She was in the Batcave; she could tell that much from the echoing sound of the bats' shrieks and stalactites hanging from the top, but her chest still ached (only slightly more than the rest of her) and the feeling of a smile still rested on her lips. She lay weak and weary on the medical slab, which had been cushioned by a few blankets, and a thin sheet to cover her.

Looking up at them filled her with a sense of guilt, and before she knew she was acting on it.

"I'm sorry." She whispered hoarsely.

Bruce's look turned darker when he heard her quiet atonement.

"My God, Rachel! What are you apologizing for? Yes, you went out despite my orders, and that made me mad for about three seconds before the worry set in. And now all I can say is I'm so proud. You'll never have to go through anything like that again. I won't allow it. From this moment on, Robin doesn't exist."

"Bruce _no_. You know me, I won't take this. I'll just keep going out there alone if I have to."

"Rachel, what you went through tonight...You won't be the same. You might freeze up at any given moment, and I won't run that risk in the field."

It hurt to think that that was all he cared about, but she didn't let it stop her. "I don't care. I run a greater risk of going _insane _by staying cooped up; living the dull life you want for me like nothing ever happened. You can't just pretend and have things go away - _I _won't go away. I'll be Robin with or without you, you're choice."

There was silence between the two of them filled only with her agitated wheezing. She didn't care if he thought she was a liability. She had shown him once before what Robin could be, what Robin was, and she was no liability. She had felt more herself in the weeks she had picked up the mask than she had in almost a year. Rachel wasn't going to let that go without a fight.

"I won't have this argument with you. Just look at what happened tonight; what could happen again."

His expression was tense, with a stubborn set to his lips as he stared at her. His ward on the other hand was getting more and more passionate with each word.

"Bruce!" She tried to yell, but only ended up choking on the word and dissolving into a coughing fit.

"Right now you need to focus on getting better. We'll finish this discussion later."

He turned before Rachel quickly grabbed his hand and held on tight. His attention returned to her pale face.

"What would you do," she whispered, "if someone told you that you couldn't be Batman anymore?"

"Rachel..." He sounded almost pained, but stopped himself before he said anything else. There was a long silence between them before he hung his head.

"You'd really go out anyway wouldn't you?"

Hope lighted in her sore chest.

"My God, yes. But you're never to leave my sight. Ever. And that's after at least a month and a half of recovery time. This happens again and you're done."

Rachel took those words as Gospel as she lessened her grip without letting go of his rough hand. Finally, she closed her eyes of her own accord to rest her weary mind, and body.

* * *

**Okay, so after so long, was there anything you wanted to say? SCREAM it in your reviews and I'll be your servant for a week (wink wink nudge nudge hey hey) ;).**

**...But seriously maybe that's not the best incentive I have no idea how to make more than three things in the kitchen.**


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